


What's Left Unspoken

by RadioactiveDeLorean



Series: Redemption [3]
Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Gen, I have no idea what I'm doing, MORE PINING BECAUSE NOBODY KNOWS HOW TO TALK ABOUT FEELINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE, also Emmet is asexual and you can fight me on it, am I projecting? am I making reasonable headcanons? who knows?, hence no relationship tag, i wrote the last quarter of this fic while slightly drunk, so if none of it makes sense then that's why, they're gonna end up together eventually but not right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveDeLorean/pseuds/RadioactiveDeLorean
Summary: Emmet and Good Cop finally get talking properly, and neither of them can work out why the other keeps them around. Emmet has something on his mind, but in typical Emmet-Brickowski-fashion, just can't say a damn word.





	What's Left Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's wondering, I myself am asexual, and I honestly adore the idea of Emmet being the same way. Am I projecting? Yes. Do I care? No, not really.

_They don’t care about Emmet Brickowski. They just care about the Special._

Rummaging through old footage and data records had to be one of the most boring things Bad Cop had ever done, but he had to do it this time. Well, he had to do it _every_ time he’d done it in the past; it was part of his job after all. This time, however, he felt compelled to search through old records in order to find what he needed. He was trying to dig up the old footage he’d recorded of Emmet’s so-called “friends”, the footage he’d used in that fateful interrogation right before all the TAKOS Tuesday mess hit the fan. He could remember odd snippets of it, but none of what he could remember was enough to tell him why Emmet had seemed so upset by what he’d been shown. He had recorded a fair bit of footage, only cropping it down to a few small snippets in order to get the point across to Emmet.

Breaking into the old Octan files was a piece of cake. Bad Cop had always been a whiz when it came to getting into secure computer systems in order to obtain what he needed. It was part of what made him Lord Business’ right-hand man. He could easily break into the secure servers of any company in any of the Realms and access whatever information Business had needed. Those skills had stuck with him all these years and were certainly coming in handy.

Scanning through the old archives, Bad Cop came across all the footage he’d recorded. Emmet was at work until five-thirty, so, at a quarter to four, he knew he had plenty of time to look through it all before he got home. Double-clicking the first video file, the computer screen was filled with an image of the construction site Emmet worked on, one of his male coworkers filling the foreground.

_“Can you tell me anything about this man?”_ Bad Cop cringed at how gruff and demanding his voice was.

The male coworker, a rather large guy with a full beard, squinted at the photo he was being shown. _“Can’t say I’ve seen that guy before.”_

_“Oh really? Considering he’s been working here for the last few years, that can’t be true.”_ Bad Cop’s past self snapped.

_“He works here?”_ The coworker whistled. _“Can’t say I recognise ‘im, sorry.”_

The footage cut to the next ‘interview’, showing another male coworker. This one had sandy hair and some light stubble. Again, Bad Cop had asked him the same question.

_“Oh, him? Trust me, there really ain’t anything_ to _know about him,”_ the man chuckled. _“He really ain’t anything special. Well, none of us is particularly special, but Emmet is just… even_ less _special, y’know?”_ __  
  
“Care to elaborate?” Bad Cop asked.

_“I really don’t know enough about him. Honestly, I don’t think anyone does. He’s just sort of there, y’know? In the background.”_

Bad Cop felt his heart sink as he listened to the way the guy had said it. He just sounded so blasé about everything, as if he was talking about a movie nobody really cared about. There wasn’t even the faintest hint in his voice that this man cared about Emmet in the slightest. His voice held no remorse as he told Bad Cop just how little he knew about Emmet. There was no sign that he felt as though he _should_ know Emmet, or at least be able to tell Bad Cop a couple of facts about him.

Every snippet of footage Bad Cop watched showed him the same scenario over and over again. Time and time again, people said they knew nothing about Emmet. Not a single one of them could give Bad Cop an address, or even a vague location in Bricksburg in which Emmet lived. Half of them didn’t even realise Emmet was part of their workforce - _“Wait, I’m so confused, does he work with us?” -_ let alone his name - _“I know that guy, but I know like zippy-zap about him.”._ Geeze, no wonder Emmet thought so little of himself. Bad Cop was about to turn the footage off when something someone said made him pause.

_“We all have something that makes us something, and Emmet, well… he’s nothing.”_

Those words sent a chill down Bad Cop’s spine and it took all of his brother’s willpower to prevent Bad Cop from hunting that man down and punching him square in the jaw. He couldn’t believe this. How could _anyone_ say something like that about someone with just so little remorse?! No wonder Emmet had clearly been moments away from bursting into tears in that interrogation. He ground his teeth together and clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to remain calm as he watched the rest of the footage. The more he watched, however, the angrier he became until he was sure he was going to shatter his teeth from how hard he was gritting them.

“Bad Cop?”

The officer froze at the sudden voice he heard in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard Emmet return home from work. Quickly shutting his laptop, he swung around on his chair to find the construction worker standing in the doorway, his bright orange vest hanging loosely from his shoulders. He was still a little sweaty from work, a thin layer of brick dust clinging to his uniform. His hair was sticking up in tufts all over the place.

“Uh, oh hey lad,” Bad Cop greeted. “How was work?”

Emmet was staring beyond Bad Cop’s shoulder at the laptop on the desk. “What… what were you watching?”

“Oh, that? That’s - that’s nothing, don’t go worryin’ yerself over any of it.”

“It looked like - is that - is that the footage from… that interrogation…?”

Bad Cop cursed at the fear he heard in Emmet’s voice. The Special’s eyes were brimming with tears again, and judging by the way his chest was rising and falling pretty quickly, it was clear that Emmet was scared. “Look, lad, I needed to get into the old Octan files and search through ‘em to -”  
  
“To what?” Emmet cut him off. “To remind yourself of why nobody really talks to me? To show you what I meant when I said that nobody actually cares about me as a person?”

“... the second one.”

Emmet visibly crumbled at that. His shoulders drooped and a sigh left him quietly. “... great. So, seen enough, or do you need to follow me to work and get more evidence there?”

Bad Cop rose from his chair. “Lad that’s not what I -”  
  
“So I guess now that you’ve seen how much of a loser I am, you won’t want to be anywhere near me, huh? May as well pack up your stuff now then.”  
  
“Emmet would you just -”  
  
“I’m sorry I disappointed you guys by making you think I was actually _special_ in any kind of way, but I’m really not. I have as much personality as a brick and a mind emptier than a school during summer, so I’m sorry for wasting your time.”  
  
“Emmet, listen!” Bad Cop snapped. “Just calm down fer a minute and listen, okay?”

Emmet’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded. Bad Cop took a breath. “Look, the things ye said to us about yerself, the whole “nobody cares about Emmet Brickowski” thing, left a bad taste, so we figured we’d search the footage from that interrogation and see what yer neighbours and coworkers said about ye.

“Now, before ye say anything,” Bad Cop continued, once again prompting Emmet to bite back whatever response he may have had, “I don’t think any of the things yer so-called “friends” do, alright?”

“Well - I mean - it’s just - wait, you don’t?”

“No, not one bit. I think it’s all bullshit.”

Emmet looked genuinely stunned by that. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Ye’ve got more personality about ye than any of yer coworkers combined; yer funny, yer friendly, ye were more than willing to stick yer neck out to help me out. Anyone who thinks otherwise just doesn’t know the real you.”

_Hey, B? Can I - Can I talk to the lad?_

Bad Cop was surprised to hear that from his twin. Until now, Good Cop had been keeping quiet, letting Bad Cop deal with all the interactions. _Are you sure?_

_Yeah, I’m sure. There are some things we gotta tell him, and I know I gotta be the one to say ‘em._

_Alright…_

Emmet watched as Bad Cop raised a hand, pushing his aviators up to his forehead. Those wire-framed circular glasses came into view, the eyes behind them a lot softer than the cold, stern gaze Bad Cop always seemed to hold. A shy smile pulled at his lips. “Hey, lad.”  
  
“Good Cop?” Emmet asked hesitantly.

The officer nodded. “Yeah, it’s… been a while, huh?”

“Yeah, it has… how are you feeling?”  
  
“A lot better than I was, I suppose,” Good Cop shrugged. “Now, listen, lad, we need to talk about a few things.”

Emmet swallowed and nodded, leading the officer to the couch in the living room. “Uh, sure, what about?”

“Well, about what ye think of yerself, fer one thing.” Good Cop took a seat on the couch, prompting Emmet to sit beside him. The construction worker kept his head down, his hands folded in his lap. Good Cop placed a hand on his shoulder. “Something tells me ye don’t think much of yerself. Is that true?”

The Special sighed quietly, picking at a stray thread on the knee of his pants. “Right up until everything with the Piece of Resistance happened, I was just… a normal guy I guess? I mean, I kinda still am, but before, I was so normal that nobody ever saw me. You know the background characters, like the extras, that get used in movies? The ones that nobody ever pays attention to?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I always seemed like one of those. I never would have had people come up to me in the street in order to talk to me, let alone want pictures and even _autographs._ To pretty much everyone else, I didn’t even exist.”

“... ye got pushed under the rug a lot, huh?”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.” Emmet flopped back on the couch with a sigh. “I mean, I’m what, twenty-eight now? A lot of the people I knew from school are married and have kids now, or are at least in a stable long-term relationship. I’m stuck living on my own.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Good Cop assured him. “After all, ye seemed to get along with Lucy pretty well, even if yer relationship didn’t last. And I know ye said yer not sure on who ye like, but I’m sure ye’ll find someone. If it turns out ye don’t like anyone, then sometimes friendships can be far better than any relationship could ever be.”

“You’re saying that… I could like no-one?”

“It’s a possibility, lad.” The officer nodded. “Some people just don’t like anyone, and they’re happy just the way they are.”

Emmet stared at his lap, contemplating the new information. “I - I think I like people, but I’m not sure. I sort of… do, but don’t at the same time.”

“What do ye mean?”  
  
“Like… I dunno.” The construction worker shrugged helplessly. “I sort of, like people, but I sort of don’t? It’s - it’s hard to explain.”  
  
“Can ye try?”  
  
“Like… okay so imagine liking the smell of pizza, but not wanting to actually eat any? Like it looks okay, and it smells good, but you don’t want to actually eat any? Even if it’s got your favourite toppings on?”

Good Cop frowned in thought. “I sort of get it, I think.”  
  
“Or like, maybe you really like a t-shirt or something, and you like the way it feels in your hands and you like looking at it and you like telling others about it, but you don’t wanna actually wear it? Because the idea of wearing it makes you uncomfortable?”  
  
“So… yer saying you like people, but don’t wanna date ‘em?”  
  
“No, I wouldn’t mind dating someone, it’s just…” Emmet turned red. “The physical stuff that comes along with dating someone.”  
  
“Oh, ye mean like sex and stuff?”  
  
“Yeah, that…” The construction worker nodded, wringing his hands together. “Like, I’d really like to date someone, but… if they wanted to go further, I - I don’t think I could do that.”

“Is that why you and Lucy didn’t work out?” Good Cop asked softly.  
  
“Sort of.” Emmet shrugged. “I think Lucy was still pretty interested in Batman, but … she started wanting things from me that I wasn’t ready to give. I really don’t have anything against that, but… when I told her I wasn’t really comfortable going as far as she wanted, it… kind of made the relationship go a bit stale.”

“She wanted to be more intimate, and you weren’t comfortable with that?”  
  
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up…” Emmet sighed. “I’m pretty sure she’s back with Batman again now anyway, and those two always seemed to get along pretty well, whenever Batman wasn’t being an egotist.”  
  
“So, that’s never, then?” Good Cop asked with a smirk.

Emmet giggled. “Yeah, I guess so.”  
  
Good Cop chuckled, mulling over what Emmet had said. “So, ye’d say yer only interested in the romantic side of relationship stuff, and not really the sexual side?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah,” the Special nodded. “I - I don’t really understand how I’d say that, cause I think I like everyone, b-but saying that I’m like, bisexual or whatever doesn’t feel right, because I’m like, not sexual?”

“Well, if ye don’t feel sexual attraction towards anybody, that’d make ye asexual,” Good Cop said simply.

“Asexual?”  
  
“Yeah, as in, not-sexual. The same way that asymmetrical means not symmetrical. Yer not sexual, so that’d make ye asexual.”  
  
“But… but I think I _do_ like people…” Emmet frowned. “Man Upstairs, why is love so difficult?”  
  
Good Cop chuckled. “Well, there’s a difference between romantic and sexual attraction, isn’t there? Romantic attraction means yer interested in them in a romantic way like ye’d love to date em and cuddle em and kiss em, and sexual attraction means yer interested in them sexually, as in ye’d love to take ‘em to bed and show ‘em a good time.”  
  
Emmet turned scarlet again. “Yeah no definitely not that part.”

The police officer couldn’t help but laugh. “Right, so yer definitely asexual. Romantically, if ye said ye don’t mind dating anyone, I’d say yer bi, or pan, whatever works for ye best.”

“I - I like ‘pan’,” Emmet nodded. “B-but… that’d mean I’m pansexual, right…?”

“Well, not pansexual, as that’d mean yer interested in someone regardless of gender, but sexually. Ye’d be panromantic.”

“Pan… panromantic?”

“Yeah, yer panromantic, and asexual.”

Emmet began to smile a little bit at that. “I - so that’s what I am?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d say ye were.” Good Cop grinned.

The construction worker couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to make his jaw ache if it got any wider. “Oh man, and here I was thinking there wasn’t a word for how I felt!”  
  
“There’s a word for everythin’, lad, ye just gotta find it.”  
  
“How do you guys know so much about attraction?”  
  
“Well,” it was Good Cop’s turn to blush. “We used to be confused just like you, and we spent a lot of time researchin’ things. Once we’d found out that we were bisexual, and what that meant, we started findin’ more and more, and we just ended up learning a whole lot.”

“That’s… that’s cool.” Emmet nodded. “It’s cool that you guys know a lot about that kinda stuff.”

“Busin- _he_ used ta give us shit for it occasionally if it ever came up that we liked guys as well, so we ended up keeping our mouth shut. It never stopped us from reading about it when we had free time, though.”

“I think it’s nice you guys know so much and don’t like, immediately assume that everyone is gonna want to get in bed with someone at some point. I mean, I wouldn’t mind _being_ in bed with someone, as long as it was like, sleeping or cuddling or something, and not like, umm…”  
  
“Bumping nasties?”  
  
Emmet burst into a fit of laughter at that. “Is that what you guys call it?!”

“It’s one term fer it,” Good Cop chuckled. “But, honestly? Just cuddling in bed with someone sounds real sweet. Ye’d be nice and cosy and it’d be like sleeping with a big hot water bottle.”

“That kisses you back?”

“That kisses ye back.” Good Cop nodded with a soft smile. For a moment, he and Emmet just held each other’s gaze, each of them with a small grin on their face. Something about the conversation they just had left an odd… _lightness_ in the room around them. As if some of the previous tension had been wiped away. They felt that much closer, now that they both knew each other a little well.

(It most likely also helped that Good Cop had been the one to talk to Emmet, as they all knew that things would have gone very differently had Bad Cop been the one talking, but nobody mentioned that.)

Eventually, Emmet got up to go and make dinner. Good Cop grabbed his used coffee mug from his bedroom and went to give him a hand, doing the dishes as Emmet chopped up an onion, frying it with some spices to start a simple curry. As Emmet washed his hands after handling the chicken, Good Cop stirred the mixture in the pan to make sure everything got an even coating of the spices, that nothing burnt and that the small pieces of chicken started to thoroughly cook on all sides. The turmeric, cumin and coriander soon started to fill the kitchen with a warm, pleasant scent. Emmet added some fresh chopped vegetables and half a stock cube, along with some water, and put a lid on top of the pan to leave it to cook for a bit.

“Hey, er, Good Cop?” Emmet asked softly, looking up from his comic book as the pair waited for the curry to finish cooking.

“Yeah, lad?”

“...thanks, for helping me figure out, y’know, who I like and stuff.”  
  
“No problem, lad,” Good Cop smiled.

Emmet smiled back, but there was clearly something else he needed to say. Whatever it was, he forced it back down and kept his mouth shut, returning to his comic. Good Cop frowned at that but decided that it was best not to push him. He knew how awkward Emmet could be, and any unnecessary prompting might intimidate him or make him uncomfortable. Instead, he returned to his own reading.

Over dinner, Emmet kept glancing over at Good Cop, as if meaning to say something. Every time Good Cop looked up to meet his gaze, Emmet would look back down again at his food. It was fine, to begin with, but soon Good Cop started to become concerned, wondering if there was something important Emmet needed to say but just didn’t know how.

“Emmet?”  
  
Emmet swallowed the mouthful of rice he’d been chewing and looked up. “Yeah?”

“Is there something on yer mind?”

“Uh, no, why?”  
  
“Ye’ve been looking over at me the whole time we’ve been eating, and every time we make eye contact ye look away. What’s up?”

“Umm…” A bit of a blush caused Emmet’s cheeks to turn pink. “It’s really nothing, don’t worry.”

“Are ye sure?” Good Cop frowned. “Ye looked like ye were gonna say something while we were waiting fer dinner to cook, and ye certainly look like that now. Ye must have something on yer mind.”

“Honestly, it’s - it’s really nothing.” Emmet shovelled a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

“If you say so, I suppose.” The officer was clearly still sceptical but didn’t say anything else.

The conversation over the remainder of dinner was stilted and awkward, the pair eventually finishing and getting up to wash up the dishes. Good Cop washed the dirty plates and cutlery while Emmet dried up, putting each item back in its proper place once he’d made sure they were dry. Neither of them really talked as they did the washing up.  
  
The whole time, Emmet’s mind was buzzing. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Good Cop had said. _“Ye’ve got more personality about ye than any of yer coworkers combined; yer funny, yer friendly, ye were more than willing to stick yer neck out to help me out. Anyone who thinks otherwise just doesn’t know the real you.”_ Did the officer really mean that? Good Cop didn’t seem like the type to say something just because it sounded nice, and he knew that Bad Cop would have stepped in if Good Cop had been lying. It just… wasn’t something Emmet had ever heard anybody tell him before. That he was _funny,_ or interesting, or that people actually wanted to spend time with him. He supposed that if Bad Cop and Good Cop really didn’t like hanging out with him, they would have avoided him. He doubted they would have left, as it was clear they didn’t really have anywhere else to crash, but they would have at least tried to stay away from him. However, they seemed to have spent a hell of a lot of time with him recently.

Ever since he was a kid, Emmet had struggled with the whole “making friends” thing. He’d tried his hardest to make himself the sort of person people wanted to be friends with, but it only ended up pushing people further and further away. He could remember spending so many breaktimes on his own, sitting on his own at lunch or playing alone during recess. Half the time, he tucked himself away in the corner of the library and buried himself in a book, staying somewhere he knew nobody would care to look for him. It had been upsetting, to begin with, seeing so many of his classmates playing together in huge groups, either playing some kind of sport or team game, and Emmet was stuck sitting alone in the corner of the library.

Emmet had given up on trying to “fit in” pretty quickly after learning that he just wasn’t welcome anywhere. He’d tried fitting in with the sporty kids, only to be pushed out when he couldn’t keep up during games of soccer. He’d then tried hanging out with the nerdy kids, the ones who played board games and discussed movie trivia, but when they found out that his favourite TV show was the most generic, childish thing imaginable, something everyone had stopped watching before they hit fifth grade, he was nudged out of that group as well. He wasn’t smart enough for the bookworm kids, he wasn’t cool enough to hang out with the ones whose parents gave with the cell phones and tablets and all sorts of other gadgets, and even the small group of people deemed “misfits” by the others wanted nothing to do with him. He just didn’t seem to have any kind of place to belong, so he’d given up trying.

Work, to a degree, was just the same. There were the groups of people who liked going to the bar after work most nights to consume vast amounts of alcohol, but with Emmet’s low tolerance for anything that wasn’t coffee or soda, he’d quickly learned his stomach just wasn’t cut out for copious amounts of beer. Then there were the moviegoers, but a lot of them had dates they’d go and watch movies with, so quite often Emmet found himself sitting alone in the middle of a bunch of happy couples, munching his way through a small bucket of popcorn as he watched some trivial rom-com he cared nothing about. Once again, Emmet had learned quite quickly that his coworkers just weren’t interested in hanging out with him, so he’d stopped trying.

Being alone had always been painful, but over time Emmet had become accustomed to it. It became something he expected, something he knew was inevitable. As he went from one job to the next, the same situation always panned out. He always ended up on his own, regardless of who he worked with. It seemed like he was just so _generic,_ so _boring,_ that nobody felt interested in spending time with him. By somehow being so normal, so average, he didn’t belong anywhere.

Trying to be someone he wasn’t was even worse. He’d tried being the sort of person who could go to a bar and drink themselves unconscious, but after spending three days throwing up after getting drunk, Emmet had decided that really wasn’t his style. He didn’t know enough about pop culture to talk to anyone about it. He didn’t have a romantic partner and, with his lifestyle, finding one was hard, so going to the movies or to a fancy restaurant was out of the question. Aside from sitting at home and watching TV, there weren’t many single-person activities Emmet could think of. His house plant was about the most company he got on a day-to-day basis. Aside from his allergies, he really didn’t trust himself enough to get a pet of any kind. Given his track record with keeping potted plants (Planty being a lucky exception), he really didn’t want to have anything more complex relying on him to stay alive.

Glancing over again at Good Cop as they sat and watched TV, Emmet thought to himself. Good Cop didn’t seem to loathe him, and Bad Cop tolerated him at worst, yet he still couldn’t work out why. Aside from the obvious “I’m feeding you and giving you somewhere warm to sleep” aspect, there was really not much else that could be deemed a positive characteristic. At least, Emmet didn’t think so. Maybe there was something about him that he just couldn’t see, but the officers had picked up on? He had no idea what it could be, but he figured he’d find out eventually.

In all honesty, Good Cop was surprised Emmet hadn’t worked it out by now. Sure, being housed, clothed and fed was definitely good, but they wouldn’t have stuck around as long as they would have if there hadn’t been something about Emmet that kept them around. Not hating their guts and wanting them thrown behind bars was definitely one thing, but there was something else. Emmet seemed to have kindness by the truckload, dishing out forgiveness as if it were flyers for the local school fayre. He was loyal, too. As far as Good Cop was aware, Emmet hadn’t told anyone that the Cops were living with him. If he had, Good Cop figured that an army of angry citizens would have stormed the apartment and dragged him away by now. From what he’d seen on the news, it was clear that quite a few citizens of not just Bricksburg, but the rest of the Realms (at least the ones with TV coverage) hated Good Cop and his brother with all of their being. They hated Business too, that much was clear, but he was actively trying to make up for everything he’d done. The Kragle antidote had definitely helped, and breaking down some of the walls between the Realms had been beneficial too. All the Cops had done was hide away in an abandoned house, then in Emmet’s apartment. They hadn’t done _anything_ to redeem themselves in the public’s eye, so it really was no surprise that people still wanted them arrested.

Honestly? Good Cop couldn’t blame them. The things he and his brother had done were atrocious, and while they’d been orders from Business, they still _followed_ those orders. They’d still rounded up dozens upon dozens of Master Builders and subjected them to torture. The screams of those who’d spent years locked up in Business’ ‘Think Tank’ still left the Cops waking up in a cold sweat almost every night. By anyone’s reasoning, they deserved to be locked up and have the key tossed into the Abyss.

Which is why it made it even more astounding that Emmet still kept the Cops around.

Was there something about the Cops that Emmet saw, but they didn’t? Did Emmet see some redemption-worthy characteristic about them that Good Cop failed to notice? Or was it just that Emmet, with a heart bigger than Octan Tower itself, just felt that the Cops needed a fresh start? Did Emmet _truly_ think that they were worth giving a second chance to? What was it about them that made them so likeable in the construction worker’s eyes?

Oh well, Good Cop thought, the truth would come to light soon enough. He’d find out just what it was that Emmet saw in them, that prevented him from telling the authorities where Good Cop and Bad Cop had been all this time. There had to be something, and Good Cop knew it wouldn’t be long until he found out just what that was.


End file.
